


In Celebration of Winter

by IreneADonovan



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Anal Fingering, Canon Disabled Character, Celebrations, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Erik is a Sweetheart, Families of Choice, M/M, Mutant Husbands, Nipple Play, Rimming, Telepathic Bond, Winter, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 09:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Erik has been decorating the gym at the Mutant Resource Center for the annual Winter Bash. Once he's done, he invites Charles to come look. Sex happens. A day later, so does the party.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61
Collections: Secret Mutant Exchange 2019





	In Celebration of Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).

It was done.Erik let the last few unused nails settle back into their box as he surveyed his handiwork. The gym at the Mutant Resource Center was nearly unrecognizable. Multitudes of holiday lights curved in graceful arcs across the ceiling and walls, interspersed with streamers of white and silver and gold.

Erik flicked the switch with a tendril of his power, hurriedly reinforcing the wiring when the lights flickered, then doused the main lights. The space glowed with thousands of points of light, mostly white, but with a few multicolored bulbs scattered throughout, an effect inspired by a winter snowscape, intended to evoke the world peeking out through a blanket of white.

The concept was Emma's, of course. The Center's communications director had an aesthetic worthy of her last name, Frost. The Center's Winter Bash was tomorrow night, a signature event for this community that was as diverse as it was close, boasting nearly as many beliefs and traditions as it had members, and it was all hands on deck to make sure everything would be ready. Alex and Darwin and Raven would set up tables and chairs and the rest of the decorations tonight. Ororo and Azazel were overseeing the food. Kitty and Irene were planning games for the children. A dozen others were handling a thousand other details. And Charles was overseeing it all.

Charles had no official title, nor did he want one. But it was his money that had taken Erik's struggling, underfunded labor of love and turned it into a model for programs worldwide.

And somewhere along the way, Erik had fallen in love with the idealistic idiot.

Oh, not right away. He'd been damned resentful when Charles had first appeared and offered to throw his money around. Resentful, but not stupid enough to turn the man's offer down. And Charles had won him over quickly with his fierce intellect and easy smile. The man was entirely too likeable.

He'd challenged Erik to a game of chess one Friday night, after spotting Erik's personal set tucked on a shelf in his office. They'd proved evenly matched as they'd duelled over conversation and Charles' private stash of scotch, the match ending in stalemate.

Charles had smiled, licked his lips. "I suppose we should call it a night."

Erik's gaze had been glued to those berry-red lips, sudden hunger flaring in his gut.

Charles' azure eyes had widened in surprise as he picked up Erik's desire, then his smile had broadened to a grin. "I like what you're thinking."

Erik had risen, stalked around his desk, planted a kiss on those lips, which tasted every bit as good as they looked. One kiss led to another to another to a touch and another then to them both yanking their pants open like they were randy teenagers rather than two ostensibly responsible men in their early thirties.

Charles had bent Erik over his desk and taken him, gentle and brutal at turns. It had been the best sex of Erik's life to that point, though many subsequent nights managed to exceed that standard.

Erik had fallen quickly for this brilliant, beautiful man, and for a wonder, Charles had returned that love. They had been together for a little less than a year, had just been starting to talk about marriage, when it had all gone horribly, horribly sideways.

The first snow had been early that year, barely past Thanksgiving, and had been no more than an inch of slushy snow, nothing that should have had such disastrous consequences. Charles had been on his way home from the Center, when another driver had skidded, lost control, plowed into Charles' car.

Erik had melted his phone's circuitry when he received the call.

Charles had hovered between life and death for more than a week, comatose, unresponsive, his injuries devastating. Shattered leg, crushed spine, skull fracture. Even if he survived, he'd never walk again.

Erik had never seen a more beautiful sight than his husband's eyes blinking open for the first time, glassy and bloodshot though they were.

The next year had been difficult, as Charles struggled to heal, to accept what had happened. Those first months he'd been sullen, withdrawn, had tried to drive Erik away, tried to drive his own sister away. Fortunately for Charles' ultimate recovery, Erik and Raven were perhaps the only two people who could outstubborn him.

That had been five years ago, and life was sweeter now than it had ever been. Three years ago, they'd adopted twins, toddlers, Pietro and Wanda, now just shy of five. Then not quite six months ago, they'd added David, just over a year old at the time and already manifesting as a telepath.

They had each other, they had their kids, and they had the tight-knit, slightly dysfunctional community they'd helped build.

Erik couldn't have been happier.

He pulled himself out of his reverie, smiling softly, and searched for Charles by his metal -- the titanium and steel components of his wheelchair, the gold in his wristwatch and wedding band. He tugged gently at Charles' watch, their private signal.

_Yes? Is something wrong? The kids?_

_Are in the daycare center. I'm down in the gym. Join me?_

_You finished decorating._

_Yes. Come see._

_Be right there._

A couple of minutes later, Charles came through the open door and stopped short, staring. "Wow."

"You like it?"

_I love it._

_And I love you._ Erik didn't care if it was sappy. It was true. Charles and the kids were the best things that had ever happened to him.

Erik moved to stand behind Charles, his hands going to Charles' shoulders, massaging the tension he knew he'd find there.

Charles groaned his approval.

"You work too hard."

"You work harder than I do."

"Pot. Kettle." He kissed the side of Charles' neck.

"Mmn, do that again."

Erik trailed kisses up the length of Charles' neck, nuzzled the corner of his jaw, nipped gently at his earlobe.

Charles shivered.

Erik used his powers to close and lock the door. "Do you remember the last time we had sex in here?"

"It's been a while."

"Too long," Erik said, circling back around Charles.

"What are you thinking?" Charles' voice was husky, breathless.

For an answer, Erik dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning Charles pale-blue dress shirt.

"I like how you think."

Erik silenced him with a kiss, even as his fingers continued their task, and he pulled away from Charles' plush lips only reluctantly once he had all the buttons undone. He unbuttoned Charles' cuffs, nibbled each inner wrist in turn.

Charles shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall carelessly over the back of his chair, and Erik took a moment to marvel anew at the sheer beauty of his husband.

Wavy chestnut hair, habitually in need of a trim, now with a streak of silver-grey above his left brow. Eyes of a brilliant blue; lips, an impossible crimson. Fair, freckled skin. Long, elegant neck and broad shoulders. Compact, muscular build.

Charles huffed impatiently. _Less looking. More doing._

"Yes, dear." Erik's fingers danced over Charles' shoulders, down his upper arms, inward onto his chest, down again toward his belly, steering well clear of Charles' nipples, knowing the anticipation would drive him insane.

Erik mapped every square inch of skin Charles could still feel, mapped it with lips and teeth and tongue and fingertips until Charles was keening and writhing. Finally, inexorably, his fingertips spiraled in toward Charles' nipples, teased them from soft peaks to hardened nubs.

_G-d, Erik._

Erik took Charles' right nipple into his mouth, licking, sucking, nibbling, while his fingertips kneaded its twin.

It took at most a minute beyond that before Charles was gasping and shuddering through an orgasm intense enough that it bled through Charles' shields.

Charles slumped back in his chair, glassy-eyed. His skin was sheened lightly with sweat, his hair tumbled over his brow in tousled waves, and his crimson lips curved in a goofy post-coital grin.

Erik sat back on his heels, just watching his husband, waiting for him to return to earth.

Eventually Charles' eyes came back into focus and zeroed in on him. "Your turn."

Erik's cock, already more than interested, twitched in approval. "What are you thinking?"

"Remember the first time we had sex?"

"Very well."

"I know we can't quite do that anymore, but we can get close. I'm thinking you, bent over a table, my mouth, my fingers."

As a response, Erik used his powers to open one of the storage compartments under the stage, pull out a table, and set it up. Then he paused. "Do you have lube?"

"Of course." Charles offered him a smug smile as he reached into the bag on the back of his chair and groped around. "Just call me boy scout. Always prepared." He held up a small bottle, triumphant.

Erik unbuckled his belt, shoved his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and bent over, bracing his forearms on the table.

"Damn," Charles said softly. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?" He projected raw lust as he moved into place behind Erik.

He placed a hand on either of Erik's cheeks, gave a possessive squeeze, then gently spread them. Erik shivered, then shivered harder as Charles' warm breath caressed sensitive flesh.

Charles' tongue laved Erik's perineum, circled his hole, teased and tantalized until Erik was squirming with impatience and hunger, held in place only by Charles' firm grip on his hips. _Enough,_ Erik projected. _Get on with it._

_Bossy._ But Charles pulled his face away, and Erik suppressed a moan at the loss -- not a whimper, he didn't whimper.

_Yes, you do._

Erik heard the cap on the bottle pop open, and a minute later, he felt a slick finger rub against his hole then ease inside.

_Okay?_

_Very. Get on with it._

Charles began to move inside Erik, working him open, slowly, surely, until he had three fingers inside him, arching them just so to brush against Erik's prostate on each thrust, blinding bursts of pleasure.

Erik's cock was steel-hard, heavy and aching, and Charles took it in his other hand, stroking it in counterpoint to the thrusts of his fingers.

Charles mind was twined with his, just on the level of surface thought, but Erik wanted him closer, wanted to share. _Come in,_ he thought, _all the way._

_Are you sure?_

_Feel this with me._

Charles opened himself to Erik, his telepathy unfurling deep inside Erik's mind. They didn't do this often, merge this deeply, because separating afterward was jarring, almost painful, but the union itself was amazing enough to make it worth doing, even so.

Charles gasped at the shared sensation, and his spike of pleasure pushed Erik to the brink. He was dimly aware of Charles' cheek resting against his hip, the soft burn of five-o'clock shadow on his skin, but only dimly, his awareness irising down to the hand on his cock and the fingers in his ass.

They soared together, no longer Charles and Erik, not even Charles-and-Erik, but a hybrid, a Cherik, no longer sure where one began or the other left off. But they couldn't sustain the high forever, Erik's body demanding its release.

He came hard enough to white out awareness for a long minute. He came back to consciousness slumped on the table, arms folded under him, left cheek flattened against the faux wood-grain.

_You okay?_ Charles asked. He'd already pulled his own mind back a little, and Erik wanted to cry from the loss.

"Uungh," was the best reply Erik could manage.

_I'll take that as a yes._

How the hell was Charles so coherent?

_My brain's just wired to handle a lot of mental stimuli. Yours is more wired to handle metal stimuli._

Erik groaned a the wordplay and pushed himself upright, staring down at the mess they'd made.

_Let me clean you up, love._

Erik turned, saw that Charles already had a pair of handkerchieves, a handful of wet wipes, and a plastic grocery sack sitting on his lap.

Erik chuckled affectionately. _You really are a boy scout._

Charles' fair skin flushed, and he smiled back at Erik as he wiped Erik's cock and belly. Erik claimed one handkerchief and a wet wipe, and when he turned to let Charles clean his ass, he used them to wipe down the table.

They dropped everything into the sack, tied it off, and Charles dropped it into his bag for later disposal.

Erik pulled up his boxers and jeans as he watched Charles shrug back into his shirt, button it, tuck it somewhat haphazardly into his pants. Charles was just starting on his cuffs when someone pounded on one of the gym's doors. "Erik! You in there?"

Logan. Head of security, art teacher, basketball coach. And one hell of a surly bastard.

"Just a minute," Charles called. He finished buttoning his cuffs, then raked a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It didn't help -- he still looked thoroughly debauched.

Erik used his powers to unlock the door, and Logan pushed it open, a large cardboard box tucked under one burly arm. He let out a low whistle as he took in the lights and streamers, then his nostrils flared as his enhanced sense of smell kicked in. He grinned at Charles and Erik, almost a leer. "Can't leave you two alone for a minute."

Charles blushed; Erik glared.

The rest of the decorating crew trooped through the open door. Erik glared them all into silence as he and Charles beat a retreat. _Let's go home._ Erik projected images of dinner, chess, and round two.

_Why, darling, I thought you'd never ask._

** ~xXx~ **

The Winter Bash was a smashing success. Everyone ate and drank their fill and watched as the kids zoomed about with boundless energy. Especially Pietro, who was showing signs of what looked to be speed powers.

Raven sat beside her wife, leaning close as Irene nursed baby Anna-Marie. Kurt, their son, barely two, toddled after the other kids. His legs were still too short and wobbly to keep up, so every time he lagged behind, he'd teleport forward a few feet.

Logan's daughter Laura, scowled at most everyone with the disdain common to teenagers (and a dash of her father's antisocial tendencies), but Erik noticed she was quick to chase down any little one that went astray, and that she got flustered and shy every time one of the other teens (two guys and one girl so far) tried to flirt with her.

Jean, ten years old and one of the most recent additions to their little community, had gravitated to Scott, Alex's kid brother. He'd lost his sight in the plane crash that had killed their parents, but it seldom slowed him down much. He and Jean had settled in a quiet corner and were about to play cards, Scott taking her hand to show her the braille embossed on the corners of each card.

All was well, until the fire alarm went off.

The older children, well trained by school fire drills, began calmly lining up near the door. Many of the younger children, frightened by the noise, added their own wails to the din. And the parents were on the verge of stampeding, the need to protect their own overriding common sense.

Charles froze everyone, just for a minute, his calm mental voice cutting through the chaos. _Stop. Collect your kids and your coats and proceed outside in an orderly fashion. This is probably a false alarm. Logan, Darwin, sweep the building, make sure everyone is out. Erik, could you take David for me?_

Erik hurried to his husband's side and lifted their fussing son from his arms. _Take the twins. I'll go get our coats._ Of course they'd left their coats in Charles' office rather than putting them on the stage with all the others.

Charles nodded, his expression tense from staying in contact with everyone, keeping everyone calm. _Live you._

_Love you, too._ Erik blew Charles a mental kiss as he turned and left the gym.

By the time he'd collected their coats and the blanket from Charles' couch and gone outside, everyone had congregated near the community garden, now barren, fallow for winter. Logan and Darwin had finished their sweep and stood conferring with Charles. The twins clung close, each up against one of Charles' legs.

Charles took his coat and pulled it on as Logan briefed Erik. "No actual fire anywhere, so I'm betting St. John was messing around with that lighter of his again."

Erik sighed. St. John -- Pyro, as he liked to call himself -- was fifteen, a pyrokinetic, and as full of attitude and anger as Erik himself had been at that age. Lecturing would do no good, just piss him off and make him more reckless. Same for conventional punishment. He needed an outlet, one he wouldn't reject out of hand, but Erik had yet to find the right one. He'd keep trying, though, and in the meantime -- he reached out with a tendril of his power, found St. John's lighter, and turned the metal into a lump of slag in the boy's pocket.

He nodded at Logan and Darwin. "Let everyone know what's up, that we just need to wait for the fire marshal's all clear before we can go back inside."

The pair left.

Erik held the blanket out to Charles, who glared at him. "I don't need that."

"You know your legs get cold."

"Fine." Charles grabbed the blanket, muttering about worrywart husbands as he tucked it around his legs. The twins moved aside for just barely long enough to allow him to do so.

"Charles." Erik spoke his name softly. Charles looked up at him, blue eyes lit by the glow of the streetlamps.

"It's only that I love you. I almost lost you once, and I don't want to ever come that close again."

Charles beamed, blinking away tears. _I love you, too._

It started snowing then, just a flurry of fat, gentle flakes drifting down from an overcast grey sky. And a clear soprano -- Erik couldn't see who -- began singing Winter Wonderland. Other voices joined quickly, an impromptu chorus of disparate voices.

Erik cradled David a little closer, leaned close to Charles, who wrapped a proprietary arm around his hips, and let his voice blend with the others. Moments later, Charles' warm baritone joined in as well.

Perfection.


End file.
